


Drowning On Dry Land

by jiokra



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Roughness, Shaving, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiokra/pseuds/jiokra
Summary: Finn moves in with Poe after healing from the lightsaber injury, and to help him recover, Poe shaves his stubble in the morning.





	Drowning On Dry Land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



The razor’s edge slid over the bob of Finn’s throat and lifted only after shaving up his chin, skin smooth and clear of the haphazard patches of black hair. Poe stretched for the stocked up sink filled with water, swirling the blade and then wiping it clean on a cloth towel. Finn held himself still, eyes closed and chin high. His arms had regained full motor capabilities days ago, medbay confident enough to relieve him of medication. He was more than capable of shaving off his morning stubble, yet they’d fallen into this routine for too long. At the first sight of the scratchy shadows, Poe had prepped the fresher and Finn sidled up beside the sink, Finn still drowsy-eyed and Poe blessed by the mercy of caf pills.

Poe settled his palm on Finn’s shoulder, ignoring the sight of his throat working, and focused on the cream on his jaw. He drew the blade’s edge over the fragile flesh, listening to the quiet scrap of metal on skin. Finn caught his eye, and his heart started racing. Poe cleared his throat, cleaning off the cutthroat blade and beckoning for Finn to angle his head for a clean shave.

Poe settled his hand along Finn’s jaw, overly conscious of his back arching as he bent to get a clear view of Finn’s jaw. The blade scrapped off the pearly white cream, and he forced himself to focus on the shave and not how Finn allowed Poe to hold a deadly weapon so close to his arteries. Despite his focus, a mirage of red streaked through the white cream in his mind’s eye.

When the left side of his face was shaved, Finn smiled up at him.

Poe raised an eyebrow, wordlessly inquiring.

“I need your help,” said Finn.

The knife settled below his left ear, scrapping off cream. “Shoot. I’m all ears, pal.”

“I met someone.”

Poe flinched—luckily the blade had left Finn’s face, otherwise Poe couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t have nicked him. He glanced at Finn shortly, stepping around him and shaking the blade forcefully in the water, splashing foam on the sides of the sink.

“He’s Resistance.”

Poe didn’t even know Finn liked men. “Is he cute?”

_Seriously, Dameron?_

“I think so.” His gaze hardened, like he often did when his course was decided, his desires undeterred, and Poe liked to think that was the look that made him fall for the guy a bit.

“Listen, Poe, I need—” He leaned, entering more into Poe’s space. Poe pressed against his shoulder, settling him back against the sink. Poe told himself he was only concerned for shaving cream to fall on the floor.

“I don’t know how to approach him,” said Finn. “I’ve never—you know.”

“Coax a lucky bastard into your bed?”

Finn fixed him with a stare. “Been with someone not a trooper.”

Poe held his chin, and Finn pulled his top lip taut, prepping to shave off that truly dreadful moustache. “First thing’s first, have you talked to him? Does he know you exist?”

Finn uttered a little noise, upward hilt in affirmation.

“Well, you’re sure on top of things, buddy.” He reached across him to clean the blade. “Right, so ever been alone with him?”

“Yes.”

Finn’s schedule flew through his mind’s eye, yet his thoughts shuddered. Finn only recently started to acclimate to life in the Resistance, having just been weened off his weekly bacta submersions, and before he spent most of his time recuperating in medbay or in Poe’s quarters, his own bunk still lost in an administrative fumble. “Are they a doctor?” said Poe, a heavy press on his chest.

Finn laughed. “I wish.”

His brow furrowed, and the guesses torpedoed out of him. “A nurse? A technician? Janitor? Are they—” Poe glanced down at the soiled water and thought of the new recruits, in particular the silver haired man who’d spent a few days receiving a bacta treatment for a burn.

Finn tapped Poe’s chest. “Dameron?”

“Right.” A frission raced through him. Righting himself, Poe hurried to steal off the towel damp from warm water. He pressed it against Finn’s face, watching his eyes flutter shut as the heat soothed him. “They got hobbies?”

Finn’s voice was muffled beneath the towel, yet the words still audible. “Recreating starfighter schematics from memory. And making improvements to them.”

“Pava? You like Pa—wait, no. You said a man. ‘Cause you like men.”

His closed his eyes briefly, then finished cleaning Finn’s face and went for after shave. He moved clinically, looking nowhere but at the specifics, avoiding anywhere on Finn’s face north of his nose and sideburns.

“For a while, I thought he didn’t like guys. He’s really handsy, gives people nicknames, serenades mechanics for specialty repairs. He does it with everyone, made it hard to get to know how he acts around people he—you know.” Finn’s fingers rattled over the sink. “But then I was reading his flight logs and noticed he spoke uniquely at times.”

_Don’t mention the bad guys. Do not mention the bad guys._

“Heard him flirt his way out of a man’s tracker beam,” said Finn. “Then flirt with the guys who caught him anyway, and I started to wonder.”

“He sounds desperate. And uh—” Poe coughed into his forearm as he stepped away, hoping the words were smothered well enough. “Familiar.”

They locked eyes, Finn’s face devoid of emotion—an old habit from the First Order, as any flicker of humanity earned him a citation, which Poe learned the hard way when Finn had worked Poe down from a panic attack with clinical, impersonal words.

But if Finn implied what Poe believed—well, Poe didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t entirely entertained the possibility that Finn had ever felt the same.

“Sorry,” said Finn, voice so low and melancholic it made Poe’s chest ache. “Forget about it.”

He snatched up Finn’s hand before he realized it was happening. “No, it’s okay, I—”

Finn’s stare gained a ferocity, his riveted curiosity latching on Poe’s words evident as emotion shifted in those dark, expressive eyes. Poe stepped closer without realizing, a fish line reeling him toward Finn, and he surrendered to the bait, no use in denying the blatant truth. Poe laid his palm over his jaw, holding Finn steady despite that the only one moving was Poe, and he was moving into Finn.

A breath passed between them—their gazes held, Finn’s pulse pounding beneath Poe’s thumb, every nerve in Poe’s body fired up and exhilarated for that beat revved up in Finn because somehow he managed not to offend him long enough for Finn to like him.

For Finn to _like_ him.

Poe whimpered, lucid enough to smother the noise by grappling for Finn’s neck and scratching the hair on the back of his head. He tugged him flush against his chest and bit hard on Finn’s lip before he even completed the first step of kissing him.

After he pressed his mouth experimentally into Finn, who responded with fervor, opening their mouths wide and pressing his tongue against Poe’s—only after these prerequisites were completed did Poe bite Finn’s lip again, snatching up his shirt and tugging him away from the sink.

They stumbled out of the fresher, Poe’s back crashing into the wall—but he didn’t notice despite the sharp, shooting pains, his mind racing, heart pounding, unable to believe he was truly kissing Finn. They were friends, the only friend Finn had in the Resistance, everyone else either simply a coworker or awestruck over meeting the defecting trooper who took down Starkiller. Finn was a wonder, a hero, who trusted Poe enough to care for him as he recuperated from a severed spine. Poe felt as though he could’ve kissed him on the Finalizer, as Finn exuded the gall to negotiate with General Organa the terms of his aide with Starkiller. But he’d wanted to kiss Finn with utter sincerity as he laid comatose in medbay, once he truly couldn’t.

And now he was kissing him.

Poe groaned against his mouth, pressing his tongue into him for a taste of this inexplicable reality.

Finn seized his hips and steered him into their shared quarters. Poe’s stride had a wide berth, yet his eyes were closed and blind to his surroundings. A thought flickered in him, an instinct urging him to grapple out of Finn’s arms, the risk of cracking his head against another wall overwhelming him, but with Finn guiding him, a man who ran head first into the First Order for a friend he’d known for mere days, he found that he trusted Finn more than even himself to traverse across the room unscathed.

The back of his legs hit a mattress, and Finn pressed into him, lowering them onto the bed. Poe lied with his back to the bed, his legs hanging off the edge, and Finn straddled him, hands on his hips and kissing him. Poe kept the hold on Finn’s neck and released the hold on Finn’s shirt.

Finn’s face was so smooth, soft and intoxicating between Poe’s lips whenever the kisses got sloppy and Poe missed his target.

Finn shifted, fingers curling into the blanket, and he surrendered his weight to Poe’s thigh. He first started to merely shift over him, finding a comfortable position. Poe scratched at Finn’s scalp, from the hairline toward the crown, and every time his nails scrapped up, Finn thrust faster against him. Poe raised his leg, cock twitching as Finn groaned.

He grabbed Finn’s shoulder, pushing at his groin and chest. They sprawled across the bed, Poe bracing himself over Finn. He watched as Finn sucked in a lungful of air.

He’d never been so curious about a person before. He’d adored his friends and was enthralled by anyone he’d ever dated, but learning anything new about Finn, unravelling every hidden truth about him, was a novel experience. They’d been honest from the nascence from their friendship, and when Finn was unconscious in medbay and Poe realized the gravity of his regard for him, he had thought then that simply having the privilege of knowing Finn was enough. The ache of not being permitted more intimate details of him was painful at times, yet living alongside Finn and earning his trust was enough.

But kissing Finn, feeling him beneath his fingertips, being welcomed into a more guarded layer of Finn—Poe felt that ache physically ease into an enthralling warmth, pockets of himself once empty overflowing with affection that he was allowed to feel without guilt.

Breathing steadily now, Finn gazed up at him with a small smile. He snatched the collar of Poe’s shirt and pulled Poe over him. Poe collapsed over his chest, hands cupping his cheeks, and they lazily kissed.

The shock of them kissing managed to make Poe completely forget about the lust curling in him, his weight baring down on Finn and making him moan when it wasn’t enough. He only regained cognizance of his arousal once Finn worked a hand between them, fussing with the tie securing Poe’s pajamas and pulling it undone. He slipped in a hand, grasping Poe’s cock.

Come flowed out of Poe, slickening Finn’s hold. Finn worked him, massaging him and doling out attention evenly, feeling for the spots that made Poe tick. As he drew back up, his thumb traced a languid line, and Poe’s kisses grew fierce, nipping at Finn’s bottom lip. When Finn seized his tip, slow, easy strokes, Poe curled his fingers around Finn’s jaw, kisses rougher, messier, and Finn quickened the pace.

It all became too much—the heightened intimacy overwhelming him, too many layers of Finn revealed too quickly, and his arousal surmounted the pacing of the moment. He snatched Finn’s hand and pulled him away, and Finn uttered a bewildered little noise that he smothered with a kiss.

“It’s too much,” said Poe between kisses, “for me to handle without ruining the moment.”

Finn smiled against his lips. “And if I wanted you to ruin it?”

Grumbling, Poe kissed him, then nipped along his smooth jaw and pressed light, teasing kisses beneath his chin.


End file.
